We have a laundry room in the basement of our apartment building and every time I go down there I wonder if I’m going to be dismembered.
Well, that’s not true, but it certainly makes this post sound more dramatic and interesting. And I think we can all agree that dramatic and interesting is more important than “truth”. Although wouldn’t it be crazy if I were dismembered the next time I went there? I mean, what are the chances?
We have laundry cards in the laundry room, and every week, I go down with my cart of laundry, put everything in, slide the card into the machine and get the “LOW” flashing sign. Then I sigh heavily, get back into the elevator to go to my apartment, get my credit card and re-lower myself into the basement to face possible dismemberment once again and refill the laundry card.
And every time I refill it, I’m faced with the dilemma of how much money to put on it:
I can’t choose $10 because that’s not enough for me to do all the laundry, so I choose $20, because (and I’m sorry for getting all mathematical on you) that’s the next lowest amount. I am flirting with the idea of $30, but there is no way that I’ll ever put $50. And do you know why?
Yes, part of it is that I worry that I’ll lose the card with that fortune loaded on it. But another reason is that I’m afraid that if I’m in a tragic and life-ending accident, my family won’t find my laundry card and the $50 will be lost forever. And even though my loved ones will hopefully find a way to go on without me (after a lot of grieving and Husbandrinka forsaking all other women forever, obviously) the loss of the $50 will be impossible to overcome.
So I reload my laundry card with $20 time after time, and hope that the next time I go to the laundry room I will remember my credit card. And that it’s not my time to be dismembered.
One year ago ...